


Not Enough

by Scutter



Series: On the Periphery [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scutter/pseuds/Scutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and Kaidan struggle to find time together between the demands of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to get this out. I've just started a new job, full time, and had to move house at the same time, so I've had no time at all to write anything. And I'm really missing spending time in the ME universe. Anyway, on with the show.

There is never enough time in the day any more. 24 hours, crammed full of meetings, fights, the slow drudgery of cleaning blood off armour and skin, the pale snap of unconsciousness that they like to pretend is sleep, shoveling food down one’s throat to keep the body running like a machine that runs on autopilot. There’s not even time to worry, any more. Doubts are crammed into the minutes that the shuttle hovers above an LZ. Reflection is the panicked thoughts that flit through one’s head on the way from the war room to the cockpit. 

There is never enough time.

And so the time he spends with Kaidan feels stolen, illicit, moments when he could be planning strategy or anticipating the reapers’ next move, but instead, he’s feeding his addiction for warm skin and husky words, a wet mouth and heated pleasure. And there is no greater pleasure in the world than hearing Kaidan moan, that husky voice ending on a gasp, letting Shepard know that he’s heading rapidly down the path to satisfying his lover once again, a rush that makes him feel ten feet tall and capable of taking down a reaper single handedly.

His own orgasm is powerful, but hardly satisfying, as it signals the end of their stolen time together, the end of warm skin against his own, the end of pretending that there’s more to life that fighting and blood and fear.

They don’t linger in bed afterwards. There’s no time. Rare is the day when they get a full hour to themselves. Most days it’s only twenty minutes, and ten of those stolen from the time they should have been asleep. They dress, still short of breath, still exchanging lingering glances of lust and longing and regret that this couldn’t have lasted longer, that they couldn’t have spent the whole night in each other’s arms. Looks of fear, that this will be the last time. 

Kaidan heads for the door, no words necessary to explain his hasty departure. He has to follow up a lead on his father’s whereabouts, while Shepard has to call Hackett on the comm and get an update on the crucible. But he only makes it to the fish tank. And then he’s pinned against the cool glass, Shepard’s mouth on his own, a hitch in his breath speaking the fears that he would never voice in the cold light of day. 

Shepard pulls back, not able to meet his eyes, not able to acknowledge the fear openly, lest it paralyze him, to the detriment of the war.

“I love you,” Kaidan says, breaking the unspoken agreement. He tilts Shepard’s head up, meets his gaze firmly. “I love you. And no fucking reaper is getting in the way of that.” It’s idealistic nonsense. The reapers have already come between them, and probably will again. But the point, Kaidan has realised, is that they must never admit defeat. Life – their life – goes on.

He kisses Shepard again, and then he’s gone, out the door.


End file.
